


I Only Want to be With You

by fardareismai



Series: Where You Lead [8]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Domestic Squabbles, F/F, F/M, Gilmore Girls AU, Light Smut, Multi, Oral Sex, all-human 'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-04 02:09:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12159453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fardareismai/pseuds/fardareismai
Summary: Killian loves Henry as his own, but sometimes being a parent is harder than you realize.Where You Lead: an OUAT Gilmore Girls 'verse





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Happy Autumn everybody!**
> 
> **For those of you in my neck of the woods, it's still 95 degrees out, but according to the People Who Know This Kind Of Thing, it's finally officially fall.**
> 
> **Now, as regards this story, by and large we've had one story per month since we started. Henry's birthday was in April, Milah came in May, Killian and Emma started dating in June, Ruby and Mulan moved in together in July, Neal came back to town and Emma and Killian slept together in August, and Emma's hard week was in September.**
> 
> **This story was meant to take place in October and encompass Halloween, but I ended up _HATING_  the story once it got going. The replacement Halloween story is much better, but I had a couple of chapters that I did actually like, and couldn't bring myself to throw away.**
> 
> **Which means that September gets TWO stories because it's a very special month (or something). December is also likely to have multiple stories, because that's when Mary Margaret gets married, and there's a lot of ground to cover there!**
> 
> **Just thought I'd let you know the timeline we're looking at here. I do hope you enjoy this lovely bit of stuff and nonsense in the Where You Lead 'verse.**

The sun was bright which made the autumn air feel warmer than it was as Emma walked up Storybrooke's main street from George's market toward the school. She glanced in the big plate window of the Jolly Roger and saw Killian look up from the pad of paper on which he was writing the orders to meet her eyes, as though he'd sensed her presence as she walked by. Emma waved and smiled at him, then turned her attention back to Mulan who had been walking with her since they'd run into each other in the market.

"I moved here from California with nothing that couldn't be flat packed and shipped by Ikea," Mulan was saying, in answer to Emma's question about how she and Ruby were doing with their new living situation. "But she came with a bunch of really nice furniture that Granny turned over to her. Anything that was redundant, we used her stuff because it's nicer. Only problem is that moving solid oak furniture into a third-floor walk-up is brutal."

Emma just grinned. Leroy had groused about that fact over beers at the Pixie for a week afterword.

"As you know, we borrowed Killian's truck to get my crappy stuff out to the convent- they'll know where to donate it. So now we're mostly settled in, except that Ruby hates my cookware."

"Sounds weirdly familiar," Emma said, shaking her head.

"Jones doesn't like yours either?" Mulan sighed. "There are a lot of benefits to dating someone who can cook, but that goes into the detriment column."

"She didn't know about the cookware before you moved in?"

"No, when we ate in we usually did it at their place since Granny's kitchen is so much nicer than anything you can get in an apartment in this town. Replacing mine is going to be a crazy investment though, and neither of us can afford it right now. We'll probably both be getting individual pieces for the next ten years for Christmas and birthdays."

"You could just get married and put it on a registry," Emma suggested. It appeared to be what Mary Margaret was doing, and Mulan rolled her eyes in recognition.

"First, we wouldn't do that to you guys. Second, that would require me coming out to my parents, which isn't likely to happen any time in the next… oh… hundred years or so. There's a reason I moved to the opposite coast."

"You're telling me the metropolitan charms and delights of Storybrooke, Maine didn't draw you on their own?" Emma asked, grinning.

"Anyway," Mulan continued, ignoring Emma, "Granny gave her a couple of her older pieces that are still in good shape, and that's what she's been cooking on. Granny is a hell of a teacher. I don't even really  _like_ meatloaf but…"

"Yeah, between Granny and Mary Margaret, it's hard to fail. I'm probably the only person who's managed it, and I'm the one they've been trying with the longest."

"They should teach classes… you know, for people other than you."

The two girls reached the steps up to the front of the school and stopped to continue talking.

"I know Mary Margaret would love it," Emma said, leaning against the railing and setting down her grocery bags, "I think she misses teaching sometimes. But, god, who's got the time?"

Mulan snorted. "Tell me about it. I'm beginning to regret ever letting myself get roped into this wedding-" she flapped her hand in the air as though looking for a word, "-stuff."

"You don't know the half of it. I finished Belle's dress last night, and should finish Ruby's by the end of this week, and once those are done I may drink an entire bottle of champagne in celebration."

"She showed me the photo you took at the last fitting, it's gorgeous, Emma," Mulan said, earnestly. "I think she's less interested in the dress than the bachelorette party though. Where do your plans stand for that."

Emma groaned. "I don't even want to think about it. Do you have any ideas?"

Mulan shrugged. "Drag show?"

"Ruby suggested that a couple of times, but Mary Margaret always looks a little horrified before she says it'd be fine. I think it's her stepmom she's worried about."

"Oh, right. Any way we can keep Stepmom out?"

Emma shook her head. "I don't think so. She's coming at Thanksgiving and not leaving until Christmas, when Mary Margaret and David are taking off for their honeymoon. We're stuck with her."

"Oh… too bad then. I'll see if I can think of something- we've got a little time still."

"Thanks, Mulan. And if you need any help with the flowers or anything-"

"I won't in a million years ask  _you_ , crazy lady. You've already got your hands full, haven't you?"

Emma considered objecting that she could help, but it would have been a flat-out lie, so she just laughed instead. "I guess you're right. Find someone else to pester with Mary Margaret's Pinterest passions."

"Very clever," Mulan said, rolling her eyes, though she softened the sarcasm with a grin.

The bell rang inside the school, muffled by the brick walls and space, but still clearly audible.

"Oh crap, is that the bell? My class is in twenty minutes," Mulan said, eyes going wide. "I'll see you later, Emma," she called as she took off running across the square toward her studio.

Emma waved as she went, then stood watching the school doors. The kids started out in a trickle at first- the ones whose lockers were closest to the doors- then began to flow more quickly until it reached its peak with a flood of young bodies out the front door. She scanned the faces and heads for the messy brown mop of her own son. She wasn't especially surprised to see that, when she found him, he was surrounded by girls. Grace, Violet, Ava, and a fourth girl Emma didn't know were all talking around him, but where Nick, who was with them as well, looked slightly bored, Henry's face was serious, the way it always was when he was listening.

Emma half wanted to duck behind a trashcan so they wouldn't see her and she could hear what they were all talking about, but she'd sworn to herself a thousand times while she was growing up, that she'd never spy on her own children (if she had them). She didn't call out to him, however, just waited until the group broke up at the bottom of the steps to go their separate ways and he noticed her.

He grinned at her, a real, wide, happy smile, and it warmed the part of her that was still an angry, lonely girl in an orphanage to know that there was anyone in the world who was so legitimately happy to be in her presence- especially when that person was her child.

"Hey kid," she said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder in a hug. "How was school?"

"Pretty good," he said, extracting himself from her hug and bending down to pick up one of the grocery bags. "We finished our sculptures in art and they're all set up in the classroom for the parent-teacher conferences tonight. You remembered that, right?"

Emma rolled her eyes as she grabbed the other grocery bag and the pair started off down the sidewalk toward home.

"Of course I remember. Killian's coming over after dinner to keep an eye on you while I'm gone."

"Cool!" Henry said, cheerfully. "We can watch the next episode of  _Black Sails_!"

It took Emma a moment to realize what he'd said, and another to find her voice.

"Killian is letting you watch  _Black Sails_?" she asked, horrified.

Henry's smile suddenly vanished, and his eyes went wide. "Oh… oops. That was… supposed to be a secret."

"I'm going to kill him," Emma said, her step suddenly picking up as she headed toward the diner. "I'm going to strangle him in front of the entire town and no jury will convict me."

"Mom, you can't!" Henry cried, hurrying after her. "It's not his fault. Neither of us knew what it was when we first started it, and he wanted to turn it off right away. I talked him into it. If you're going to be mad at anyone, you should be mad at me!"

"And whose idea was 'don't tell Mom'?" she asked, eyes narrowed at her son.

His eyes dropped away from her, and she had her answer.

"I will run him through with a butter knife," she muttered, taking off toward the diner again.

"Mom!" Henry shouted, grabbing her hand. "Don't! Please!"

His voice was so upset and horrified that Emma finally stopped and looked at him more carefully, seeing through the fog of her own anger at last.

"Henry, kiddo, I'm not actually going to kill him you know?" she said, bringing her voice down from it's furious pitch to something a bit more comforting and maternal and kneeling to bring his face to eye-level.

"I know, but you can't break up with him over this either! It's not his fault!"

That stopped Emma in her tracks. "Break up with him?"

"Please, Mom, you can't-"

"Calm down, I'm not going to break up with Killian over something like this, Kid. Don't worry." She reached out and cupped his face in her hand. "I just need to talk to him about what is and isn't appropriate for an eleven-year-old to watch and, more even than that, how I feel about him convincing you to lie to me."

"We didn't lie to you. We can't!"

Emma stopped him with a glare. "Henry Daniel Swan, you know perfectly well that lies of omission are lies too, even if my superpower can't catch them."

He looked shamefaced at the ground. "Yeah," he said, "I know. I'm sorry, Mom."

"It's okay, Kid. You didn't hurt anything." He looked up at her, brown eyes full of hope. "You're still grounded for a week," she continued, which made his shoulders slump again. "No TV, no video games, no going out, and that includes this weekend. And you are absolutely  _not_ allowed to continue watching  _Black Sails_  with Killian."

"Are you gonna yell at him now?" Henry asked, glancing up at the Jolly Roger ahead of them.

Emma glanced back at the same place and sighed. With her anger mostly drained away, making a scene in his place of business no longer seemed like quite as good an idea.

"No," she said, pushing herself up from her knees and picking up her groceries again. "I'll talk to him later.

The two of them resumed their walk through town. Emma glanced into the Jolly again as they passed and, again, Killian seemed to sense her presence again, looking up from his work at the counter to meet her eyes. This time, Emma did not smile and wave, only shot a meaningful glare at him that made his dark eyebrows jump up his forehead in shock.

They didn't stop and continued slowly toward their house on the edge of town. After five minutes, Emma broke the tense silence with her son.

"What do you think of breakfast for dinner?" she asked. "Pancake mix was on sale at the market."

Breakfast (or the one breakfast- pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon) was the only meal that Emma could cook with some regular success.

"Breakfast for dinner is usually a reward, not a punishment," Henry told the ground.

"Yeah well, I went grocery shopping before you got in trouble, and I don't want to go again. If you're feeling too guilty for pancakes, we can have frozen macaroni or peanut butter and jelly."

"No, pancakes sound good," he said, glancing up at her out of the corner of his eye.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes.

"So… how old do I have to be before I can watch Black Sails?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Emma wasn't fooled. "Pretty sure you're not supposed to watch it until you're 17, Kid."

Henry groaned. "That's forever, Mom. What about 13?"

"Not a chance. We can talk about it again when you're 15, and not before, got it?"

"Yes, Mom," he said, managing to sound both sulky and respectful at the same time. Emma wondered how he did it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I meant to mention in the last chapter that the inspiration for this little conflict actually comes from an episode of iZombie. If you don't watch that show, I totally recommend it. It's popcorn fun, and Rose McIver is the friggin' cutest.**
> 
> **Also, I hope this fills the Captain Cobra cravings I've been hearing so much about...**

Killian walked the short distance to the Swans' house, taking the chance to clear the diner's clatter from his head and leave it all behind before he got to the place that was rapidly becoming his favorite in the world. He was even (and he was careful only to do this in the privacy of his own mind, never aloud, and absolutely  _never_ in Swan's hearing) beginning to think of it as home. His own tiny flat above the diner was, more than ever, only a place to sleep on the nights he didn't sleep in Emma's bed after an evening spent with the two people who meant the most to him.

It was the first time in a long time, however, that the sweet spice of pleasure at seeing the blue siding of the house rise out of the lowering autumn dark was tempered with the bitter taste of fear. He knew Emma was angry with him, and didn't know why. He'd spent most of the afternoon waiting for a text from her telling him not to bother coming over to watch Henry that evening (or, his cruel mind added, ever again), but it hadn't come.

And so he stood in the cold twilight in front of her house, hesitating over the stupidest things. He could guess from the lights in the windows that she (probably they) was in the kitchen. On a normal night, he'd walk in the back door without knocking, expected and welcomed like a member of the family. With his stomach in knots with guilt and fear as it was, he thought he should knock on the front door like a guest, but suspected that doing so was just another form of self-flagellation.

He stood, paralyzed with uncertainty in the front lawn, halfway between the two doors when the kitchen door opened and Emma's voice floated out to him through the chill.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack standing on my lawn in the dark like a serial killer? I've got to go soon, get inside!"

Some of the tension Killian had been carrying in his shoulders- placed there by the insidious internal voice that said that whatever Emma was upset about had made her decide to kick him out of her life entirely- drained away, and he crossed to her door and bounded up her back steps without further hesitation.

The kitchen smelled a bit like the diner first thing in the morning- eggs, pancakes, bacon, and coffee. Perhaps a bit more singed than he or Bart would have accepted, but Henry's plate was clean, so clearly not inedible.

"Hi Killian," Henry said, more restrained than usual, which told Killian that whatever tension was there had clearly affected the lad as well.

"Evening, Henry. Good day at school?"

"Yeah," the boy said on a sigh. Killian wanted to probe further, but Emma interrupted.

"You done with your supper, Kid?"

"Yeah, thanks Mom."

She picked up the plate and put it in the sink, then pointed back toward the rest of the house.

"Homework now, and remember, if I catch you playing video games or watching TV, you're grounded for two weeks."

Henry looked up for the first time, eyes wide with horror. "Two weeks?"

"On  _top_ of the week you've already got."

" _Three_  weeks? Mom!"

She shrugged. "Follow the rules and it won't happen. When you're done with your homework you can read a book, or put together a jigsaw puzzle, or play Go Fish with Killian. Nothing with a screen though."

Henry sighed and stormed off.

"Dare I ask what's gotten the lad into trouble?" Killian asked once he and Emma were alone in the kitchen.

She sighed and didn't look at him as she finished stacking dishes in the sink. "You can ask, but I haven't really got the time right now, I'm already running late. We can talk about it when I get home, or Henry can explain." She turned and finally looked at him, though not into his eyes. Rather she seemed oddly interested in his right shoulder rather than his face. "He's not allowed to watch TV, or play computer or video games, and he can't go out."

"Aye, I'll keep an eye on him. Swan…"

She shook her head. "I'll be back in a couple of hours, we can talk then."

Killian clenched his jaw, but didn't press her. "As you wish," he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and looking down.

She finally stepped closer to him, laying a hand on his arm and, when he glanced up into her face, meeting his eye.

"Hey," she said, gently, "relax. We're ok. We'll talk about it when I get home, ok?"

He searched her face for a moment, but the knot in his stomach had loosened when she said they were okay.

"Aye," he said, nodding. He gave her a tight smile.

She went up on her toes and brushed a kiss over his cheek, but she spun away when he might have chased her mouth for a proper greeting.

"I'll be back in a few hours," she called as she made her way toward the front door, picking up her keys and purse on the way. "Be good, boys!'

Once she was gone, Killian was left with a sink full of dirty dishes and the quiet house. Unwashed dishes always made him feel twitchy. Emma would never ask it of him, but Killian would not leave them for her to come home to. He had more important matters to deal with first.

Henry was in his bedroom, head bent over a notebook laid out on the desk in the corner when Killian reached the room. He knocked on the jamb, though the door stood open, feeling that the lad should be allowed to refuse him entrance to his space, if he wanted.

Henry looked up and gave him a small, sad smile.

"May I come in?" Killian asked.

Henry nodded and Killian stepped inside the small room, perching himself on the edge of Henry's small bed and glancing around, unsure how to broach the conversation. The room was full of the flotsam of a young lad's changing passions. There were Star Wars models hanging from the ceilings and a poster of Iron Man opposite one of the original Ghostbusters movie posters. There were two tall bookshelves, with the books stacked haphazardly- Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings, the Captain Underpants series and a stack of Spiderman comics. His duvet and curtains were navy with constellations picked out on them in white, and he had a rug printed with jungle animals. On top of one of the bookshelves, the Lego pirate ship Killian and Henry had built together the first Christmas they'd known one-another still stood.

It pleased him to see that- the elf picture frame Henry had given him that same year, with its outdated picture of the Swans, still lived in pride of place in Killian's own bedroom.

"I'm sorry, Killian," Henry finally said, sounding miserable.

"What for, my lad?" Killian asked, concerned.

"Mom's mad at both of us, and it's all my fault. I… I accidentally told her you let me watch Black Sails."

_Bugger_ , Killian thought. No wonder Emma was upset.

"I know you told me not to say anything to her- that it was our secret- but it just… slipped out." Henry was nearly in tears now.

Killian was on his knees in front of Henry's chair in a flash, making sure he was on eye-level with the lad, hand on his shoulder.

"No, Henry, I should never have asked that of you. That was unfair of me," he said, looking into the boy's eyes seriously.

"I talked you into letting me watch it," Henry said with a sniff. "You wanted to turn it off right away."

It had actually been about fifteen minutes into the first episode, when the first bedroom scene had come on, a dozen half-dressed sex workers all writhing around a single young man.

"I know you hate to hear it, my lad, but you're not an adult yet. I am. It's my job to not let you talk me into things. And I should never have asked you to lie to your mum."

Henry stared at the floor, and his voice, when he spoke, was barely a whisper. "I kind of liked it." He glanced up at Killian quickly, dark eyes wide. "Not lying to her, or anything but… you know… having a secret. Something that was just for us guys."

That heartfelt confession filled Killian with warmth, and he couldn't help but smile, in spite of the seriousness of the moment.

"Aye lad, I liked that too. We always have our fishing trips though, your mum never comes out on those."

"Yeah," Henry said with a sigh. "But she knows about those, and we don't do it all that often."

"You can still have secrets you know, things you don't tell anyone, or things that you tell me and not your mum," Killian said gently. "I've never told her about your feelings for Miss Pendragon, after all."

"You haven't?"

"Of course not, you told me in confidence." Nevermind that he was pretty sure Emma knew, she hadn't heard a word on it from him. "The difference is that we were keeping something from her because we knew it would make her mad, not because it was really private, aye? But if you want something that's just between us, we'll have it. Perhaps Godzilla movies, or a book series we could read together. You and Liam used to do that, aye?"

Henry frowned, forehead puckering. "Maybe, I don't really remember. It was a long time ago," he said with the callousness of a child.

"Well, we'll think of something then. Not tonight though. I'll see if I can talk your mum into lightening your sentence, but we'd best not push our luck. You finish your homework, and I'll go wash the dishes, and we'll find something to occupy ourselves until your mum gets back then."

"Is that your punishment then? Dishes?"

Killian chuckled. "Probably not, but it might be. She hasn't told me yet. She's leaving me to squirm."

"That's mean!"

He shrugged. "Aye, a bit, but I probably deserve it, getting you into trouble like I did."

Henry smiled at him, and it was with a warm heart that Killian pushed himself off the floor and rumpled the lad's hair as he left to do his own chores.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Happy Fanfiction Friday, y'all!**

Emma could feel the judgmental eyes of the other PTA moms on her as she slid into one of the desks in the back of the classroom. She wasn't that late: Jasmine hadn't even started speaking yet. In fact, she was followed in by another parent- a dad this time- and  _he_ was greeted with smiles by the moms in the room, rather than glares.

He smiled around, and winked at Emma, who turned away from him resentfully, in spite of a voice in the back of her head saying she was being childish. She was sitting at a grade school desk, she told the voice, she was entitled to be a little childish.

The guy took the desk next to hers (it was the last one in the room) and leaned over to her conspiratorially. "If Storybrooke is anything like the school I went to in Kansas, the kids sitting in the back of the class were usually troublemakers. Should I be keeping my eye on you?"

Emma rolled her eyes. Honestly? Flirting at a PTA meeting? It was annoying not just because of the knowledge of Killian waiting back at her place, but also for how horribly cliche it was. True, Storybrooke smacked strongly of the Hallmark Original, but women with school-aged children were as likely to be married here as they were in less-picturesque towns.

"My name's Walsh," he continued, apparently unconcerned with her nonexistent response. "Walsh Ozmann, what's-"

He was interrupted by Jasmine taking her place at the front of the class and clapping her hands for attention, and Emma sighed with relief.

"It's wonderful to see you all this evening," Jasmine said with a bright smile and in that sincere tone that made her so beloved among her sixth graders. "We have a lots to go over, so let's get some quick things out of the way first before we get to the serious stuff."

What followed were the usual announcements made at such events: upcoming fundraisers, curriculum, a reminder that they were approaching winter finals and mid-year report cards, a relatively weak plea to not allow the students to bring smartphones to school (even the administration knew they were fighting a losing battle there, but they had to ask), and a quick explanation that the following year- the students' last before graduating to Storybrooke High for eighth grade through their senior year- daily schedules would be more divided and more strict, preparing the students for changing classes when they got to the high school.

"Now, there are two more big things that we need to talk about, and I'll start with the most difficult one," Jasmine said, with a small, ironic smile. She turned and lifted a stack of pamphlets from her desk and began to move through the room as she must every day, placing one on each desk.

"This year," she explained as she went, "before Christmas holidays, the sixth grade will have its first human health and sexuality class. These are the pamphlets for parents that let them know what we'll be talking about and give them an opportunity to discuss it with their children either before or after."

Emma was sure that Jasmine had expected what came next: voices rose in objection and horror. It wasn't everyone in the room by any means- even a town like Storybrooke had managed to make it into the 21st century eventually- but about half a dozen moms, shocked and offended that their darling eleven-and-twelve-year-olds might be exposed to even the idea of sex managed to make enough noise to drown out the cooler heads.

As Emma glanced through the pamphlet she was handed, she was actually much more concerned with the  _lack_ of information Henry would be given. Everything in it was technically accurate (Archie Hopper, school superintendent, had started his life as a child psychiatrist and so was one of the most level heads in the city government, though he was so gentle and soft-spoken that he was often ignored- on the matter of curriculum, however, he was intractable) but so vague and generalistic as to be functionally useless.

The argument raged through the classroom and Emma ignored it in favor of making a pro and con list in her head- should she give him a proper human sexuality lesson before or after the school did?

Doing it before would mean that he'd probably bring up his unsanctioned knowledge during the class' lesson. She couldn't decide if that belonged in the pro or con column- his doing so would annoy the teacher, but might ensure the rest of his class got a more complete picture if they had to answer his questions or speak to his knowledge. If she waited until after, he'd still tell the kids at school what she'd told him (and they'd take it back to their moms, and she'd become even less popular with the PTA set than she was already), but on the schoolyard there wouldn't be a teacher available to set any misunderstandings straight.

Emma had mostly decided on telling Henry before (maybe that very weekend so that they had time to get everything clear before the official lesson) and the main argument in the room was still going strong, when the guy next to her spoke again, leaning over and smiling in a way she supposed he must think was winning.

"I don't know what all the trouble is, this doesn't look too bad to me," he said, waving his own pamphlet at her like she wouldn't know. "Better the kids get the facts as early and often as possible than pretend sex doesn't even exist." He ratched his smile up another notch or two and offered a hand across the aisle. "Walsh Ozmann, I said so earlier. I didn't catch your name."

Emma's first instinct was to tell him that he hadn't caught it because she hadn't offered it, but on half a second's reflection concluded that there was really no reason to antagonize the man, particularly considering he appeared to be slightly less crazy than the rest of the class parents.

"Emma Swan," she said, taking his hand for a perfunctory shake.

"Swan," he murmured, then he eyes went wide with recognition. "Henry's mom?"

"Uh… yeah," Emma said, somewhat surprised.

"My daughter talks about your son all the time," Walsh said with a grin. "Think she might have a little crush."

"He's a charmer," Emma said, frowning and running through her mental rolodex of Henry's friends. Ozmann didn't ring a bell, and she'd never seen this guy before, which meant-

"Dorothy's dad?" she hazarded. Dorothy was new to the class this year, and Henry had mentioned her a few times, though Emma had not considered her a competitor for his affections.

"That's me. I also run Wizard of Oak, off the square. We've been open since the summer, have you been in yet?"

Emma suddenly felt guilty for having been so polite to the guy. Wizard of Oak was a new furniture store just off the square, as he'd said, and Jefferson had been in a fit ever since it had opened. It was bad enough competing with stores in Misthaven, Portland, Bangor, and Boston, but to have someone open shop practically in his own backyard? Emma had commiserated over endless cups of coffee at the Jolly's counter during the summer and (along with Killian, David, Mary Margaret, Granny, Ruby, and Mulan) had promised never to set foot in the new shop.

"No," she said, simply, drawing her hand back and placing it in her lap.

Walsh appeared not to notice her coolness. "Oh you definitely should, it's a great place. We've really liked Storybrooke, Dorothy especially. She was homesick for New York and her mom over the summer when she didn't know anybody, but since school started she's been really happy."

"Her mom isn't here?" Emma asked, though she figured she should have guessed: flirtatious divorcee, the cliches kept rolling in.

"No, Glinda stayed in New York. I understand Henry's dad is in New York as well?"

Emma almost groaned out loud. Instead she put on a big, fake smile. "Yeah, Henry's dad is out in New York with his fiancee. Fortunately my boyfriend is great about being willing to watch him. You've met Killian Jones? He runs the Jolly Roger on the square?"

The unsubtle hint didn't seem to faze Walsh Ozmann in the slightest. His smile remained and, if anything, he leaned closer, as though to continue talking, but Jasmine appeared to have gotten the rest of the group under control again and raised her voice from the front of the room again.

"Alright then, last thing. As you all know, your students are only one year away from moving up to the high school. As senior students, they're being held to higher disciplinary standards so that they can be role models for the younger grades."

They'd been through this at the beginning of the school year, and Emma wondered why they were going over it again.

"The sixth and seventh graders this year have been really wonderful. Trips to the principal and detentions are down so school administration has decided to throw a little party for them- the Friday before Halloween this year we're going to be hosting a Halloween dance for both grades."

The low-level tension that had filled the room since the health and sex class had first been mentioned seemed finally to break- everyone thought this sounded like a fun idea and Jasmine grinned at the response.

"We'll be providing some cookies and punch, and the students can come wearing costumes. It'll be from six-thirty to nine-thirty here in the gym, and we'll have sign-ups for parent chaperones, so don't be shy!"

Jasmine met Emma's eyes as she said this last, and Emma couldn't help but smile and nod. She supposed 'costumed dance' was pretty much her wheelhouse, given her known love of dressing up.

When Jasmine released the parents, Emma slipped through the other parents to the front to put her name on the sign-up sheet. Jasmine grinned and thanked her, then guided her to Henry's art project on display: a sword, the hilt of which was painted clumsily in Gryffindor gold and red. By the time she'd wrapped it in some supplied newspaper to take away, Walsh Ozmann appeared to have left already, and Emma sighed in relief as she waved goodbye to Jasmine over the heads of the rest of the class moms and escaped into the blissful cool, quiet night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Happy Onceday lovelies! We will now forever remember Friday the 13th as the day we got not one, but TWO Hooks on our TVs! Seems pretty lucky to me!**
> 
> **This is the end of this little bit of fluffy nonsense, and it gets just a touch saucy there at the end. I didn't write a cleaned-up version of this one, but if you'd like one, please feel free to drop me a note and I'll do exactly that for you, with my apologies and best wishes.**
> 
> **Normally the next story would publish next week, but I'll be on vacation in the mountains with little or no internet, so there won't be a new installment in this 'verse until the week after. There's some chance that my other story (it's an OUAT S7/iZombie crossover of sorts) might get another chapter up before I leave civilization, but we'll see. If you haven't checked that story out, it's very weird and I don't recommend it.**
> 
> **Hopefully some time away will give me lots of ideas and time for writing and when I come back I'll have a year's worth of updates for you, my dearest of readers. Hopefully this chapter will tide you over until then!**

Emma was surprised to find the house silent as she opened the front door. A few minutes past Henry's bedtime usually saw a flurry of tooth-brushing, face-washing, a request for a glass of water, or a final question on the nature of the universe. Killian was more susceptible to these bedtime-stalling tactics than she was, so Emma had expected to find noise and movement, rather than near-unbroken stillness.

She closed the door as quietly as possible, bypassed the dark kitchen and slipped instead into the living room where a low light was still burning, oddly unwilling to break the silence, .

They were there, both Henry and Killian, asleep on the sofa, Henry's head on Killian's shoulder, one of Killian's arms around Henry, the other hand resting atop the first Harry Potter book as it lay open in his lap. They had obviously fallen asleep around the middle of chapter two, Emma determined as she crept closer. She could just picture it- Killian reading out loud as Henry gradually nodded off, comforted by the familiar story, and the safety of Killian's embrace.

There was a strange, hot tightness at the back of her throat as she continued looking at them, curled together like puppies on her couch. On impulse she reached into her back pocket and drew out her phone, framing and snapping a photo in spite of the low light. In the back of her mind, she thought she might give it to Ruby to clear up with photoshop.

Killian had obviously not been deep asleep, as the shutter-click of the camera had his blue eyes blinking foggily awake. After a moment he focussed on her and gave her a smile.

"Evening, Love," he said, voice low and husky with sleep. His eyes flicked over to the clock on the television, and he shook his head. "Wake up, lad," he said, shaking Henry gently. "We missed your bedtime."

Henry muttered incoherently as he emerged slowly from sleep, and Emma chuckled.

"Come on, Kid," she said, tugging his arm to get him off the couch as he blinked sleepily at her, "time for bed."

He leaned heavily against her as she guided him back to his bathroom and watched him brush his teeth, then again into his bedroom where he dropped his clothes on the floor and fell forward, dramatically, into his bed. Emma could tell he was awake by that point and hamming up his sleepiness.

She leaned down to kiss his rumpled brown head, not bothering to tuck him in as he pretended to be asleep.

"G'night, Kid," she said, amused. "Love you."

Henry let out a fake snore in response to this.

"Gonna tell Killian 'thank you' for taking care of you tonight? Bet you had a lot more fun with him than you would have had with me given that you're grounded."

That galvanized Henry, who pushed himself up and turned his big, wakeful brown eyes to Killian who was watching the pair of them from the doorway, a small smile playing over his lips.

"Thanks, for watching me tonight, Killian," he said, sincerely. "And for doing all the voices in Harry Potter."

"You're welcome, Lad. Sleep well, and I'll see you tomorrow, aye?"

Henry nodded, then grinned up at Emma as well. "Night, Mom."

"'Night, Kid," she said, reaching over to flick off his bedside light as she pushed herself off the floor.

"Harry Potter voices?" Emma asked Killian, highly amused, as she closed Henry's door.

Killian pursed his lips, blue eyes sparkling. "No idea what he's talking about," he deadpanned. "The lad has a boundless imagination. Must get it from his mother."

"That's the story you're going with?" Emma shot over her shoulder as she led him back into the living room, then into the kitchen.

"Until I come up with a better one," Killian said.

"I won't believe you."

"That's because you've a suspicious soul, Emma Swan," he said as she began to put away the dishes he'd left out to dry on the counter.

She looked over her shoulder at him again, eyebrows high on her forehead, and Killian remembered suddenly that he was in the proverbial doghouse.

"Sorry," he muttered, dropping his eyes to the floor. "I shouldn't have let him watch Black Sails."

"Nope," Emma said airily as she closed the door of the dish cabinet with perhaps a little more force than necessary. "You shouldn't have."

"And I shouldn't have asked him to lie to you."

Emma put the skillet away with a clatter. "Damn right you shouldn't have."

"Honestly, Emma, it's entirely my fault. If you're going to be mad at one of us, it should be me. Henry doesn't deserve to be punished for it."

Emma turned and leaned back against the counter, shaking her head.

"You two," she muttered ruefully. "Both so determined to be blamed. It'd be adorable if I wasn't annoyed with the pair of you."

"I-" Killian began, but she put up a hand, stopping him from continuing.

"Henry's a smart kid. He would have known Black Sails wasn't a show I'd approve, but he watched it anyway, and he knows he's not supposed to keep things from me, and did it anyway. He didn't have to do what you said-  _you_ aren't his mom."

"Aye," Killian said, his shamed eyes still on the ground.

"You, on the other hand, are an adult, and as one you knew he shouldn't be watching the show, and knew perfectly well that I'd be annoyed about it if I found out, and told my son to lie to me. Unfortunately, in spite of the fact that you're more to blame than he is by virtue of being an adult, I'm not  _your_ mom, so it's not actually in my power to punish you."

His eyes flew up to hers. "Emma-" he said, pleadingly.

"Are you sorry?" she interrupted.

"You know I am."

"Will you do it again?"

"Absolutely not."

She nodded, apparently satisfied. "Did he have any questions?"

Killian frowned at this rapid change of subject. "Come again?"

Emma shrugged. "It's a show full of sex and violence. Did he have any questions about… well… sex and violence?"

"Ah," Killian said, apparently understanding. "Well… it probably doesn't help my case, but I did try to distract him during the more…  _lurid_ scenes. I think the censor's biggest objection was the relationship between two women, but he's obviously rather comfortable with that notion already."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way," Emma said, nodding. "Well that's… something I suppose. I was planning on having a serious sex talk with him soon anyway."

"Oh?"

She nodded and pushed herself off from the counter, crossing the room to him. "He's getting his first school-sponsored health and sexuality class. Jasmine handed out the curriculum tonight, and it's so carefully inoffensive that it's practically not information. I'd like to be sure he doesn't end up making my mistakes- or his dad's, more like- so I'm going to be sure he knows the specifics and what  _not_ to do."

"Ah… well-"

"Actually," she said, stopping in front of him and cocking her head to look at him consideringly, "you should help me."

"Me?" he asked, eyes going wide and voice jumping an octave.

"Well you exposed him to Black Sails," she said, logically. "Call it your punishment. Beside, he'll need a guy to ask questions that I can't answer."

"Er…"

"What's wrong?" she asked, a grin starting to creep onto her lips. "Scared?"

"Bloody terrified, Swan," he said, honestly. "But you need only say the word, and I'm your man."

Her eyes, which had been sparkling with mischief went warm and soft at his words. She leaned into him then, resting her head on his shoulder, and his arms went around her waist.

"Thanks, Kil," she murmured into his shirt.

"Any time, Love," he said, pressing a kiss to her hairline.

The pair of them stood, wrapped around each other, swaying in the still quiet of the house for a long moment.

"I should go," Killian murmured against her temple, relaxing his hold on her not at all.

"Why?" she asked, voice sleepy, not moving her head from his shoulder

"Didn't bring a bag. Didn't want to presume."

Emma finally moved, rolling her eyes as she stepped out of his arms and vanished into the laundry room, returning in a moment with a basket of neatly-folded clothes that made Killian blink in surprise.

He was, by nature, neither untidy nor forgetful, but he'd been over at their house nearly every evening, and overnight at least once a week for more than a month now, and even the most conscientious person might end up with a few socks left behind. Add in the fact that Henry tended to be a messy sort of a child (there was a pair of jeans that had had soda spilled all over them, and another that had ended up with grass stains all up the side from wrestling in the yard) and Emma's aversion to doing laundry in general, and she'd managed to put together quite a collection.

"I think you can probably manage to make it home without looking too much like you've dressed out of the church lost-and-found," she said with a smile.

"You've just been hoarding my clothes like a dragon, not bothering to bring them back to me?" he asked, grinning.

Emma snorted. "You're lucky I bothered to fold them, buddy. You want someone to deliver your clothes to you, date the dry cleaner."

She'd considered putting the clothes in one of her drawers, or on a shelf specially cleared for him in her closet, but it had seemed like too much, too soon. She'd set the laundry basket aside for him instead, too afraid even to bring it up to her bedroom, to start thinking maybe it belonged there.

"Makes me feel like a proper member of the family, that does," he said, unaware of her inner thoughts, "living out of a laundry basket like you and Henry do."

"Let me guess, you always put your clothes away right after folding them, and you probably fold them before they've had a chance to wrinkle," Emma said, rolling her eyes. "Pleasures of living alone, I suppose."

"If I put something in the dryer before I go down to the diner in the morning, it might be cold by the time I get back, but I can always put it on a fluff cycle. That's the point of folding clothes, you know, so they don't wrinkle."

"Yeah, yeah, you and Regina, always up my butt about laundry," Emma said, shoving the basket into his hands irritably and moving past him into the main part of the house. "Suppose I should have left them to stain if you were going to make fun of my domestic skills. Again."

"Swan!" Killian said, turning to follow after her as she bounded up the stairs to her room. "Emma?" he said, continuing to chase her through her bedroom door where he set the basket down on a chair and trailed after her to where she stopped in front of her window, refusing to look at him.

"You're right, Love," he said, stroking a hand down her hair. "I didn't even thank you for washing my clothes before I started teasing. I don't mind, Sweet, I really don't. I live and work in the same building and haven't got a child to look after. You didn't have to do my laundry, Love, but you did, all while managing twice as much as I ever do. I'm sorry, and thank you, and I love you."

Emma let out a long breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Well, those things just about covered it, didn't they? I'm sorry, thank you, and I love you. The last, in particular- though they had both acknowledged that they did love one-another, they didn't say it out loud very often when not in bed together.

She supposed she couldn't ask for more, especially when the argument was as silly as this one had been- she could hardly pretend that she was a domestic queen, and she had always known that Killian was tidier and more put-together than she was, in general. It was dumb to be mad at him for just being what he had always been.

"Forgive me?" he said, softly, placing a hand gently in the center of her back.

"Yeah," Emma said, leaning toward him so her head bumped his shoulder. "Might make you start doing the laundry around here if you're going to make fun of me though."

"Horrors," Killian said with a fake shudder.

"Hey, don't mock it," she said, digging an elbow gently into his side. "You've never had to wash Henry's dirty undies."

"You know how to strike fear into a man's heart, Swan."

"But you'd do it?" she asked, turning her head to catch his eye from the corner of hers.

"You know I would," he answered, moving behind her so she could lean more fully against him, which she did with a happy sigh.

"You're a braver man than I deserve."

The two stood silent for a long moment, Killian's hands resting on Emma's hips, his thumbs stroking up to the skin just above the top of the waistband of her jeans and underneath the bottom hem of her blouse.

Emma relaxed back against his broad chest. She knew they should get ready and go to bed, but she was reveling in the quiet calm.

"Would you consider that our first fight, do you suppose?" Killian asked after a few minutes, the breath of his words tickling the hair at the back of Emma's neck.

"That laundry thing?" Emma asked, incredulous. "I'd hardly call that a fight. More like-"

"Not the laundry, you silly thing. The other… Henry and…"

"Oh… right. Well yeah, I guess that was a fight but still… hardly our first. We've been snapping at each other off and on for years."

He dug a finger in just below her ribs, tickling her and making her jump out of his hold.

"Hey!" she said, turning to face him. "What's that for?"

"You're being intentionally obtuse."

Emma raised an eyebrow at him. "Meaning what?"

He stepped toward her, close, but didn't touch this time. Instead, he glowered down at her.

"Here is me trying to finesse you around to the idea of make-up sex and you will insist on intentionally misreading my signals. Innuendo is entirely lost on you, Swan."

Emma opened her mouth to object, but he, apparently concluding that he was done with subtlety as well, bent down and scooped her into his arms before turning and dropping her onto her bed without another word.

She landed on her back and immediately sat herself up and glared at him.

"Killian!"

He grinned as he stepped forward, his own glare entirely vanished, and began to work with a businesslike directness on the fly of her jeans.

"Best keep your voice down, Love," he said as he exposed her violet underwear. "Wouldn't want Henry to think we were fighting." He peeled her jeans and underwear down her legs and tossed them into a corner.

Emma gasped when, without warning or buildup, he immediately dove in between her legs with his mouth.

Killian Jones was a thoughtful, deliberate man. Though his tongue and fingers could move quicksilver fast when the situation warranted, he was a man who preferred a slow, thorough build-up. Even their first time together, after nearly five years of incidental tension, and three months focused foreplay, he had remained careful and attentive, not losing his head until that final moment.

Tonight, however- maybe because of their fight, or possibly for some other, more impenetrable reason clacking away in that rumpled dark head of his- he seemed ready to forego slow and steady, and aim instead for the flash and spark.

Already, Emma could feel herself teetering on the edge of euphoria, and he'd barely started. His tongue was flickering away at her clit, but his fingers were only just now inching their way up her inner thigh, intent on burying themselves inside her.

His hand didn't make its goal before Emma tensed, retaining only enough awareness in that last moment to bring one hand up to muffle any cries she might make that could wake Henry and bring him running. She loved her son more than anything in the world, but she might toss him out the window if he interrupted them at this moment.

It only took a few moments, though it felt like longer, for Emma's eyes to flutter open, and for her to look down at the face leaning against her thigh and smiling up at her. She was still wearing her socks, shirt, bra, even her sweater, and he was fully dressed down to his shoes, but she felt thoroughly ravished- no. That was too nice a word for it. She felt delightfully fucked.

"What-" she began, once she felt like she could use her throat again properly, "was that?"

He grinned. "That, my love, was an apology. Didn't you recognize it as such?"

"If that's how you apologize, I'm going to get mad at you more often."

He rolled his eyes and pushed away from her, standing and stretching. "As if you could get annoyed with me  _more_ frequently," he said on a low groan. Once he was finished, he looked down at her, still smiling. "You need the bathroom first or can I?"

Emma blinked in confusion. "The- the bathroom?"

Killian chuckled. "Aye, to brush my teeth and generally get ready to sleep. You're familiar with the process, I think?"

Her disbelieving mouth snapped closed and she glared up at his teasing. "But what about-" she gestured between them. She hadn't even really managed to sit up yet, only propped herself partway up on her elbows, her naked legs still splayed off the end of the bed. "What about you?"

"Like I said, Love, it was an apology. I'm fine, and it's been a long day and will be a longer tomorrow, so I don't want you worrying about me. Bathroom?"

"Go ahead," Emma said, weakly.

Killian nodded and stepped toward the door off the side of Emma's room.

"You, Henry, and I should go out on the water once more before it gets too cold," he said, apropos of nothing as he closed the door.

Emma flopped back on her bed with a sigh, wondering how anyone as screwed up as she had managed to involve herself with someone as almost preternaturally  _normal_ as Killian Jones.

She'd managed to get a sleep shirt on and had crawled under the covers (her bed was unmade, as was her habit, much as it annoyed Killian) by the time he came out of the bathroom, and she jumped slightly at the cool touch of his skin against the warmth of hers as he turned and curled into her under the blankets, pulling her against him with a long, contented sigh.


End file.
